


Routine

by Thighz



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Body Worship, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Reaper is a separate entity, monster au, past Gabe/Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 07:39:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17658710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighz/pseuds/Thighz
Summary: This quiet place tangled in the heart of a forest has given him such a soft love.It’s given him a place to forgive and forget and to - quite literally - have his nightmares removed from his very being.A glimpse into the daily winter life of an old soldier and his shadowed lover.





	Routine

**Author's Note:**

> My piece for the Monster in your bed zine.
> 
> [Artwork](https://twitter.com/Tomoblogs/status/1094350403867693056?s=19) by Tomoyo!! 
> 
>  
> 
> _Enjoy_

 

 

_ Routine _

 

 

 

 

 

 

The floorboards bend and creak under Jack’s feet as he rises from his bed. His knees crack and he presses a hand to the base of his spine and rubs at the aching muscles there. It’s cool in the room, still dark outside due to the winter months, with snow clinging to the frosted glass of his window.

Reaper isn’t in the bedroom as he pulls on a pair of sweats and a bulky black sweater. Nor is he in the kitchen when Jack shuffles across the old tile floor. It’s chilly on his feet and he backtracks to the bedroom to find a pair of socks.

When he returns to the kitchen with hopes of kick starting the coffee maker into brewing something hot, he finds the machine already hissing with steam. The fragrant smell of a dark roast promising warmth down the back of his throat.

But first - a fire.

Jack makes his way to the living room to get one started and frowns at the appalling lack of firewood near the hearth. He casts his eyes to the window and winces at the heavy pelting of snow in the darkness.

The coffee pot cries out in completion.

Jack huffs and wanders back to the kitchen, hoping the caffeine will give him enough of a boost to brave the cold, snow ridden walk to his firewood shed.

He fixes himself a steaming mug and sips at it, wondering where Reaper has gone off to so early in the morning.

Normally, the creature is at least in the bed when Jack wakes. He likes to watch Jack sleep, warding off the bloodstained nightmares and feeding from the curling fear that never quite leaves the mind of a soldier.

He’s curiously absent this morning, save for the coffee.

Jack finishes his first cup and sets the mug beside the pot. He’ll need a second cup to warm up after his journey for firewood.

However, as he passes the entryway to the living room, he sees golden flames licking the chimney floo. A fresh stack of wood rests in the wire basket and he can already feel the difference in temperature.

A blooming sort of warmth fills Jack’s chest as he leans into the frame dividing the kitchen and living room.

Love was such an encompassing emotion. Jack spent the first part of his life delirious with it and once he lost it, it left an acrid taste in his mouth. So, of course he closed his heart off and decided the only love he should have is the only one he remembers. Fast and furious and high on everything Gabriel was. That mentality left an unseen wound. One that almost cost him Reaper’s spot in the center of his new life.

This quiet place tangled in the heart of a forest has given him such a soft love.

It’s given him a place to forgive and forget and to - quite literally - have his nightmares removed from his very being.

And while it’s never easy, Jack wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything. Not even for a second chance at his first love.

  
  


 

-

 

 

 

Jack takes a second cup of coffee in front of the fire, feet buried in the faux rug and an electric blanket tucked tight around his shoulders. The light from the window is pink and white and bright with morning sun and snow.

He’s almost drifting off to the blur of dancing flames when he hears the  _ click clunk _ of hooves on tile and then wood.

Chilled talons brush the back of his neck, sending goosebumps down his arms.

Jack shivers and dips his nose into his steaming mug, “Cold.”

“I’ve been outside.” Reaper’s voice is amused, “Enjoying the fire?”

Jack hums, “Thanks.” he raises his mug a little, “And for the coffee.”

“Simple tasks.” Reaper’s fingers continue to stroke his hairline, skin absorbing the warmth from Jack’s.

Jack leans into the touch, eyes half-lidded, “What were you up to anyway?”

Reaper rumbles pleasantly, “It’s the first snow and you were going to lose the last of your garden.”

Jack swallows thickly and closes his eyes.

“You picked the last of my vegetables?” He’s not used to having someone do for him so willingly anymore.

“They are in a basket on the counter.” Reaper’s hand drifts around Jack’s neck and uses a clawed finger to tilt his head back.

Jack does so happily, exposing his throat to a creature that could easily kill him whenever it felt like it.

But as a cool, wet mouth closes over his own, he knows that Reaper would be just as eager to die at Jack’s hands given the chance.

They kiss for a long, slow moment. Reaper smells like the crisp, snowy air and greenery from Jack’s garden. (and he no doubt trampled on half of it trying to pick the last of the vegetables)

“Also.” Reaper’s face disappears behind the shimmering decoration of his skull, “I had to scare off those scavenging teenager  _ again _ .”

Jack frowns, studying Reaper’s antlers from his upside down position, “Again? That’s the third time this month.”

“Hm.” Reaper huffs irritably, “Their fear tastes like teenage hormones and adolescence.”

Jack snorts, “At least you got breakfast out of it.”

“Unsatisfactory.” Reaper mumbles, “And nowhere near as good a meal as you.”

Jack’s too old to preen, but he’s long past being embarrassed about how Reaper makes him feel. So, he gives the creature a grin and wiggles until the blanket slips from his shoulders. He spreads his knees and rests the warm bottom of the coffee mug on his thigh.

Reaper’s hand tightens around his throat and his big body shifts with a sudden intake of breath.

“Is this an invitation?” The creatures voice comes out ragged and reverent.

Jack can feel himself growing hard inside his sweatpants. A memory of Reaper taking him a few nights ago making him twinge in all the right places.

He swallows and can feel the grip of Reaper’s palm over his adams apple, “A reward.” Jack mumbles, eyeing the shadowed face beneath Reaper’s skull, “Before we go peel and can the vegetables you gathered.”

Reaper practically snarls, “I accept.”

Jack manages a small smile before he rises to his feet, hand going up to curl around Reaper’s taloned hand.

Reaper’s hooves click across the floor as Jack leads his massive frame around the edge of the couch to join him in front of the hearth.

Both of Reaper’s hands cup the sides of Jack’s face, “Here?” The fire casts shadows in the divots of his skull as he looks down at the frosted fur rug, “You’re going to hurt your back.”

Jack gives a throaty laugh and wraps his hands around Reaper’s wrists, fingers curling around fur and skin. He drags the both of them down on top of the rug and spreads his knees, allowing Reaper to settle between them.

Jack sheds his shirt first, then lounges back against the silken texture of faux fur. It’s cool and plush against his back and tangled in between his toes.

Reaper purrs above him, golden claws gliding along the scared battlefield that is Jack’s chest. He catches a nipple with one and Jack gasps, thighs tensing and blood heating.

He can feel his cock thickening and the ache is a pleasant reminder that he can still feel anything at all. That Reaper’s hands and the low thrum of his vocals can put Jack right on the cusp of arousal and drag him straight under.

Reaper doesn’t rush.

Normally, Jack is needy and desperate to feel the sharp bursts of pleasure.

But this morning Jack wants to take him time.

He wants the sluggish, smoldering burn and the gentle nudge over that slippery slope.

Reaper leans over him; mouth searching and the long, thick girth of his tounge finding residence past Jack’s lips.

Jack moans around it, hands rising to curl in the fur around Reaper’s neck. His fingers tangle in it and tug, gaining a sharp growl and a nudging of Reaper’s sizable cock against his sweatpants covered ass.

Jack grinds back against it, chest brushing Reaper’s and the chill of shimmering jewelry shocking his skin.

“Patience.” Reaper’s tongue glides along the edge of Jack’s jawline and over the slope of his naked shoulder.

Jack shivers and falls back onto the rug, fingers carding lazily through Reaper’s fur.

The tips of Reaper’s claws slide effortlessly down Jack’s sides until they hook inside the elastic band of his pants. Were this not a lethargic coupling, Jack would be bemoaning yet another pair of ripped clothing. But it is and Reaper takes his time dragging them down the length of Jack’s legs before tossing them towards the couch.

Each leg gets ample amounts of undivided attention. Reaper drags teeth and tongue and claw along the muscles and behind the knee. Jack’s cock leaks a pool in the dip of his belly and he watches with bated breath as Reaper leaves bruising, bloody kisses across his thighs.

“You are always so eager for me.” Reaper murmurs, teasing Jack’s swollen cock with the backs of his talons. He rubs the ruddy tip, the tips of his fingers tacky with pre-cum, “And always so wet.”

Jack groans, raising his hips up to follow that sharp hand as it retreats.

It grips the soft pudge of his love handles instead. Sharp bone and metal pierce the top layer of his skin, sending molten pulses between his legs.

Jack keens, throat thick and head swimming with arousal. He spreads his legs wider and Reaper rumbles happily at the sight.

The thick, blood-hot tip of his cock kisses Jack’s hole - still slick from their last coupling.

Jack throws out a hand and Reaper catches it within the grip of his free one. His talons curl between Jack’s fingers and squeezes.

“I will give you what you want, my love.” Reaper drags Jack in by his hip.

The breach is a bright snap of pain and a warm, stretching fullness that settles in Jack’s heart like a heavy stone.

He cries out softly, hand gripping tight to Reaper’s own.

They push and pull together, the light from the fire casting haphazard shadows. Reaper’s antlers present a haunting figure across the walls as his body ruts against Jack’s.

The pleasure burns up Jack’s spine and each thrust of that inhuman cock inside him pulls him tight like a rope. Each one brings him up, up, closer to the top. His breathing burns and the Reaper’s voice is a hypnotic reminder that this love is not human.

Reaper is too much and not enough.

“Re -  _ Reap _ -.” The name gets stuck in Jack’s throat. His body is wound too tight and the bright prespice is so close he can almost taste it.

Reaper picks up the pace, but only just. His hips piston, steady - holding. A low, vibrating growl is rattling the walls of the house. The flames flare and hiss and crackle.

Jack’s pulse thunders in his ears, his eyes focused on the powerful creature moving between his legs.

The visual is too much. The steady grip on his hand and his hip and the overwhelming pleasure roaring inside unravels him.

Jack comes with a strangled sound - a wounded animal too far from home. Come oozes from the tip of his cock and trickles like molasses down the dip of his sides.

Reaper comes with a roar that shakes the foundation of Jack’s little house. His hips hold tight to Jack’s ass as his cock fills him to the brim.

Jack’s body dissolves into the rug. He is mush. He is melted snow under the winter sun.

His head lolls to face the fire and his body simmers with lingering aftershocks.

The backs of Reaper’s claws brush down his cheek, “Rest, Jack.”

Jack closes his eyes and mumbles, “Need to can the vegetables.”

“Later.” Reaper’s voice sounds like wind chimes. So at odds with the rough, smoky tone Jack is used to, “Rest.”

Later will include his kitchen counter littered with chopped carrots and okra and pickled veggies. It will smell like vinegar and a fresh pot of coffee. The winter storm will continue to rage and thrash against the walls as they work.

Reaper will shatter at least three mason jars.

Jack will laugh and kiss his creature to silence the sullen irritation that will follow.

That is for later.

For now - Jack rests.

 

 

 

  
  
**End**

 

 

 

 


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